


Repeat Until Death

by claudiarya



Series: A Glimpse in the Lives of Lucie and Jesse [2]
Category: Chain of Gold - Fandom, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxious Thoughts, Chain of Iron What If, Depression, Depressive Thoughts, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Ghost!Jesse is all the rave, Herondale stubborness, Mention of Death, Mentions of demonic rituals, One Shot, Star-crossed, angst but no happy ending, angsty, sad and emotional, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudiarya/pseuds/claudiarya
Summary: Lucie is willing to do anything to bring back Jesse, even give up her soul, right?My interpretation of a scene we might see in Chain of Iron or Chain of Thorns.From the text:"She closed her eyes, trying to remember the sensation she had felt as her younger self. Nothing. Now there was nothing, only her ever-growing sadness and fatigue. It had been a couple of exhausting months."
Relationships: Blackdale - Relationship, Heronthorn - Relationship, Jesse Blackthorn and Lucie Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale
Series: A Glimpse in the Lives of Lucie and Jesse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150013
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	Repeat Until Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clary1835](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clary1835/gifts), [crimsonblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonblue/gifts).



> Hey guys! This is my second TSC story as well as my second Lucie/Jesse fanfiction. These two have a special place in my heart and I love writing about them. This was inspired by the song Repeat Until Death by Novo Amor. I find the lyrics to be fitting to this story and Lucie and Jesse's relationship. 
> 
> This story is based on what I think we'll probably see in the upcoming books of the TLH series, if my theories are correct.
> 
> English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistake. 
> 
> ENJOY!

_Don't go, you're half of me now_  
_But I'm hardly stood proud_  
_I said it, almost_

Lucie couldn’t say she was feeling the Holiday spirit, not even as she stared out of the window of her room at the Institute. The London streets and its shops had been adorned with colorful garlands and flickering candles, creating a magical atmosphere throughout the city.  
In all honesty, Shadowhunters didn’t really celebrate any festivities, but both of her parents had grown up as mundanes for a good part of their lives, especially her mother, and the Angel knew how Tessa didn’t loose occasion to spend time with her family; her natural talent at decorating meant the living room was now sporting a huge tree.

When Lucie was a kid, she loved entering the room in their house in Idris where her mother had set the tree. The smell coming from the branches always managed to help her write better, transporting her in the various worlds inside her head.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the sensation she had felt as her younger self. Nothing. Now there was nothing, only her ever-growing sadness and fatigue. It had been a couple of exhausting months. They had passed in a blurry, and try as she might, most of the times she couldn’t recall how she had found herself in certain situations. When she had promised Grace Blackthorn that she was going to help her in bringing back her brother, she had never been so sure of anything in her life. What Lucie didn’t know at that time was the toll her body and soul were going to pay for her noble, if a bit selfish, intentions. She just wanted Jesse back. She wanted a chance at living a normal life with him, at giving him a normal life, without a crazy mother and a rotting household.  
Lucie looked down at her hands, as if making sure it was really her body, she was never sure these days. She seemed to have lost all the things that made her, her. Her love for writing and reading, the lightness about her, her willingness to help her friends at the fullest of her ability. But they, too, eventually had drifted so far from her. They wer all gone. Even Jesse.  
_Who am I?_ she thought to herself, her hands now pulling her hair in an attempt at feeling something. She could feel some of the strands of her hairstyle falling as she removed them. She really was a perfect picture of how she was feeling: a disheveled, lost and silly girl.

At first it had started as mere research on the matter. Lucie couldn’t recall how many books she had read alongside Grace. There had been times when the candles they had brought to the Institute library had burned out. They had both agreed to resource to the light of candles instead of the artificial ones, in fear of being discovered; working and reading at inhumane hours. If someone had asked the young Herondale girl, what she thought of Grace Blackthorn before they had agreed to work together, she would have replied with words not very fitting for a lady.

However now, even though Lucie still couldn’t forgive Grace for deceiving her brother with that wicked bracelet, she had developed with the fair-haired girl a relationship grown out of a mutual respect. Which paradoxically, under some aspects, was even more solid than friendship. They pushed the other not to stop when their task seemed impossible, while being careful not to raise any suspicions among Lucie’s family. Luckily, Cordelia and James’ fake marriage had helped them to pass unnoticed to most.

Lucie remembered when they had gone to Magnus Bane in search of advice. It hadn’t been a fruitful expedition if she was honest. She had thought that since the warlock was an old friend of his father, he was going to be more inclined in giving her a helping hand. How wrong she had been.  
Magnus had not received the news of their intention so well. He had dismissed them vehemently, glowering at Grace throughout the entire meeting, telling them that they were meddling with things bigger and more dangerous than their own comprehension. When he had told them to go, he had grabbed Lucie’s arm, warning her not to keep the company of the Blackthorn girl and to drop her pursuit.

Of course, Lucie hadn’t listened to him.  
Now she wished she had, because she couldn’t have imagined the horrible deeds she was going to perform in the months following the encounter with the warlock. What had started as simple rituals, it had turned into tragedy. The worst kind of tragedy. Lucie berated herself at how stupid she had been when someone had pointed out that James was the grandson of Belial.  
She had used to think and at times say, “I’m his granddaughter, too!” as if revendicating her birth right as well.  
Now, she guessed she had revendicated it alright.

How had she allowed this to happen? When did her noble intentions had made possible for… for her demonic grandfather to took over her mind, her body?  
The Prince of Hell had played his cards well, too well, and Lucie had been too naïve to realise that. Belial’s offer had seemed too good to refuse at the time, and the fact that hers and Grace’s efforts had brought them nowhere had only incremented her need at receiving some help. Any kind of help; even from her demonic relative; no matter the means.

Her determination at achieving her goal at any costs, had scared even the Blackthorn girl, who had tried to dissuade her to go on with her plan, to turn back as still she could. But it had all been in vain; and that had left her to deal with her demons (literally) alone.  
Her stubbornness was what had led her to this point. When the possessions had started, she hadn’t realized what they were going to entail.  
She had been so scared when she had woken up in the midst of a wood, with no recollections of the things she had done, her hands covered in blood, and at least a hundred moths all around her. Dead on the ground.  
If she closed her eyes, she could see them, she could see how they had deposited behind her body, almost forming a train of a bridal gown. The deathly pallor of the insects’ wings standing out even in the darkness of the night.

_It’s all my fault_ , she gripped her hands tighter on her lap. She bowed her head, in a futile attempt at crying, but no tears were shed. The cold and totalizing grip around her heart impeded her even that these days. The comfort of letting out her emotions.  
To make matter worse, when Belial had struck a deal with her, and the rituals had started, Jesse had stopped visiting her. She recalled their heartbreaking exchange of words, how he had accused her of having changed. She had been enraged and had told him that she was doing all this for him, and only for him.  
_“I have never asked you for any of this,”_ he had told her _. “On the contrary, I have begged you to stop, Lucie. You have changed and you don’t seem to have any idea of the forces you’re dealing with!”_

Lucie raised her head, she looked out again, the perpetual gray atmosphere of London appeared especially thick today, a film enveloping the city, as if even the weather was trying to bring her under to suffocate her. She then, darted a glance around her room, when her eyes paused on the writing above her window. _JB+LH_.  
If she thought about it, it felt like a lifetime ago when the two of them had scribbled their initials on the wall. Lucie couldn’t almost believe there had been a time, not so long ago, where she had been happy, where she had felt loved, and shared one of the best moments of her life with Jesse himself. She missed him deeply, his absence was only a reminder of what she had gotten herself into; Jesse had been right that night in which they had fallen out, but still, she couldn’t regret her choices.

Lucie decided then and then. She knew that if the ritual Belial had planned in three days was going to be successful, she might not have another chance to see him. And she wanted to see him at least one last time. She got to her feet, taking a shaky breath, while grabbing her wool coat from the back of her chair and her hat from her tiny desk. She shut the door behind her lightly, careful not to ruse anyone’s attention, and as silently as she could, she made for the entrance of the Institute.

The weather outside was even worse than what she had believed. The mist was hanging low in the dusk of the late December afternoon. She knew Chiswick House was not near, and getting there would take her time, but she didn’t care. The streetlights were about to be turned on any minute now, but Lucie went on her way, not paying any mind to the world around her. Even that had changed. If she were still herself, she would have tried to soak up the gloomy atmosphere to replicate it in one of her stories; the perfect setting of one of her installments for _The Beautiful Cordelia_.  
The only difference now was that the beautiful Cordelia had indeed found her prince, but her life was no fairytale, and so she proceeded on, inexorably.

When she reached the old Lightwood mansion, she stopped in front of the gate, which was rusting and decayed as the rest of the place. She reached for it and pushed it. It opened with a creaking sound, that seemed to echo all around her; inside her hollowness.

The glass coffin was where Lucie remembered. A square little building with no roof, surrounded by mist, created a very bleak picture. It was pretty fitting actually. The girl fumbled with the pockets of her winter coat and fished out a witchlight. If anything, the eerie light of it made the place even more scary to navigate, especially at night.

Lucie approached the coffin with tentative steps, the rustle of her skirt and the crunching of the dry leaves on the ground was the only sound produced. She took a deep breath and when she exhaled, she saw a small puff of condensed air rising from her lips, perhaps a sign of her own life leaving her body, as it had been for the boy she was about to see.  
As Lucie entered the small building, she thought that it was unfair that Jesse had been laid to rest in such a decayed place, his coffin left out to the weather. She looked around, shivering. Was it her imagination or it was even colder inside that place?  
Lucie craned her head a bit and saw the Blackthorn symbol, a crosspiece carved with thorns, hanging over one of the ends of the coffin, a silent sentinel keeping guard on the boy.

Her breath got stuck in the throat, in the same way it did when he had taken the habit to appear in her room at the Institute at night. Every time Lucie’s gaze had been caught by Jesse’s features it was as if she was still that six-year-old who had fallen into a fairy trap; she couldn’t help but wonder at him.  
She got closer to the glass coffin and raised the witchlight to get a better look at the same face that had haunted her in these past couple of weeks. The glow coming from her source of illumination reflected on the fine material of the coffin, making it seem like little fireflies where dancing around the boy’s still body.  
Lucie gave herself a minute just to be there in his company, in the company of this person whom she had missed.

She raised her free trembling hand, putting it where his owns’ were crossed at the center of his chest.  
“Oh, Jesse,” Lucie said softly, her voice struggling to come out. She continued her caress over the glass bringing her hand higher. Her fingers slide a bit to the side of the coffin, where the structure folded into a rounded edge, imagining she was really cupping his face, instead of that cold unforgiving material.  
“I’m sorry,” she continued in the same tone “but I don’t regret doing what I did, if it means for you to come back.” The Herondale girl closed her eyes, feeling for the first time in quite a long time the unmistakable prick of tears.

“What are you doing here?” asked a stern voice behind her. Lucie gasped at the sound. She had thought she was never going to hear that voice again. She turned to face him, slowly, afraid that it was her mind playing tricks on her and that he wasn’t really there. But this time she was wrong, there stood Jesse Blackthorn, in all his ghostly glory. The witchlight in her hand only served to enunciate his otherworldly appearance. Lucie kept staring at him, unable to speak.  
F _irst time you see him in weeks and you’re gaping like a fish_ , _great job Lucie_ she reprimanded herself.

“I asked you what you were doing here.” Jesse repeated, scowling. He was still mad at her, then. Could she blame him? No, not really.  
“Jesse,” Lucie started saying “I’m here because I had to see you. I had to see you at least one last time.” She finished, as she started for where his figure was. Noticing her approaching him, he took a step back instead. She stopped in her tracks a bit hurt by his gesture.  
“Well, you saw me, so you can go now.” He retorted with the same hard tone in his voice.

Lucie was taken aback, unsure how to react to his words. Perhaps it would be for the best if she left as he said. Yet, her body didn’t cooperate.  
“Do – do you really hate me so?” she asked him, gripping the locket that used to be around his neck, the locket that had contained his last breath. Jesse had given it up without a second thought to save his brother, letting go of the strength that allowed him to be corporeal. Lucie recalled how after having ordered him, he had brought her where she had asked, his strong arms around her body.  
“I don’t hate you, Lucie.” Was his answer.  
“Then why does it feel like you do? You can’t even stand to look at me.” She spoke again. At her words, he turned his face to look at her, his green eyes two glowing orbs in the penumbra. They were so sad, and now that she noticed it, his shoulders were hanging as if he was caring a burden, he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the rhythm of Lucie’s heart the only thing marking the time.  
“I know you probably have no desire to talk to me, and what I’m going to say might sound selfish, but I missed you Jesse.” She breathed out, as she tried once again to get closer to where he was. This time the boy, or better the physical form of his soul, didn’t take a step back.  
“I missed you, too, Lucie.” Jesse confessed, while looking at her face, which was softly illuminated by the witchlight.  
What he would give to be able to take her hand, cup her face, hold her.

“Then, why you stopped visiting? It’s been so hard without you. I’ve been so lonely…”  
“You know very well why.” Jesse retorted harshly.  
“Everything I did, I did for you. To try and give you a future, surely you must understand that.” Lucie said, the desperation she had accumulated in these months coloured her voice.  
“I’ve never asked you to do any of this,” he said. This time it was his turn to shorten the distance between them a bit more. If he had been really there, Lucie would have felt his breath on her face.  
“On the contrary. I _begged_ you not to try and bring me back. Not to drag Grace in all of this. But you didn’t listen to me; you ignored what I asked of you and did it anyways.” Jesse finished, his eyes pinning her on the spot.

“I wanted to give you a chance to live a life with no more sorrow… I wanted to give us a chance. It’s so unfair what happened to you, I just wanted you to give you a possibility to start over,” Lucie countered back. “Why can’t you understand that?”  
“And why can’t you understand that, perhaps, I couldn’t bear the thought of your soul being consumed day after day because of me?” Jesse asked her in a pained voice. He brought a tremulous fist over his evanescent chest, as if he was stripping the words straight out from deep inside him.

Lucie didn’t know what to say, so she just kept staring at him, in silence. Not for the first time since she had met him, she realised that the shadow of a boy standing before her had stolen her heart. Out of the blue, she remembered one of her favourite quotes by Jane Austen: ‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun’ and thought that she understood its meaning wholly now.  
“I don’t regret what I did, Jesse. I would do it again,” she started saying.  
“I would sell my soul a million times over if it were to assure you would come back to life. You once told me that I brought light into your lightless world, and I cannot deprive this world of your own light once you’ll walk this realm again. I cannot, and I will not!” Lucie exclaimed, raising her hand and putting it as close as she could to Jesse’s, careful not to touch it.  
It was their way of communicating when everything else seemed obsolete. In all those nights they had spent together, they had started doing this: inching closer to the other hands, arms, face. Expressing their want to touch, but the incapability of doing so.

Jesse looked down at their almost joined hands, before returning his gaze on her.  
“I can’t let you do this, Lucie. It would destroy me.” He rasped out.  
“There’s still time for you… you can still seek help, tell your parents of the deal with your grandfather. I’m sure they would find a way to resolve this. Don’t waste your life – your soul on me. You have to let me go.” He finished. A plead, a last desperate attempt to change her mind.  
“It’s too late for that, Jesse. Don’t you get it? I’ve come here to see you in case things turn out for the worst. I’m glad I had this moment with you…” Her hand, now, inched closer to his face, as she had done before on his coffin. A different kind of barrier separated them, though.  
“I had to see you one last time and tell you how I wished life would have connected us in a different way. How I wished the circumstances could be different. But they aren’t, and I’m taking all responsibility for my actions.” Lucie finished.

“What have you done?” he asked instead, catching the true meaning behind her words. A goodbye. And with all his will, he reached for the wrist of her raised hand, seizing it.  
Lucie gasped. She felt his long fingers around her wrist, how was it possible? It was as it had been before he gave away his last breath to James, the same strength.  
“Jesse… how?” she marveled, staring at their joined limbs. However, after a second the sensation faded, and his hand passed right through her, falling lifelessly on his side.

“Answer me. What have you done?” Jesse asked her again, his voice a bit louder and demanding.  
“Suffice it to say that in not so long from now, if everything goes as planned, you’ll be walking amongst the leaving again.” Lucie stated, as a matter of fact, as she once again gripped the Blackthorn locket at her neck and casted her gaze down.  
“And what about you?” his green eyes lit by a flame of concern.  
“What is going to happen to you?”  
She lifted her head, looking at him. Oh, how she was going to miss that face.  
“I think you already know the answer.” Lucie said in a lapidary tone.  
Jesse stumbled back a few steps, as if her words had slapped him, while shaking his head in denial.  
“No… you can’t do that. You can’t! I won’t let you.” He yelled, and if ghosts could cry, she was sure tears would be streaming down his eyes now.  
“Why, Lucie, why? I don’t get why you are going to throw your life away for someone who’s already dead.” Jesse approached her again. He fumbled with his hands, like he had wanted to put them on her shoulders but remembered he couldn’t too late. They went to rake his ebony hair instead.  
“You can’t do anything to change my destiny, now. And it’s like a told you: you deserve a chance at a normal life, too. You deserve happiness, surrounded by the people who truly care about you.” Lucie simply said.  
“I won’t be happy without you in my life, Lucie. I hope you know that. And I’ll try everything to stop you from accomplishing this madness.”

“Oh, Jesse…” she breathed out. Could it mean, that perhaps he felt the same way she did?  
She raised a trembling hand again, the palm facing him. He understood immediately. He brought his own limb up, as they had done what felt like a different life ago in her room.  
Their version of a joining of bodies, of souls. They stayed like that for a while, the presence of the other too precious to be spoiled by more hurtful words.  
But Lucie knew what she had to do.  
“I’m sorry to have caused you pain, but I’m not sorry for my choices. I can’t apologise for that.”  
She looked at his face, trying to commit his features to memory. “Thank you, for everything…”  
“Lucie?” he said in a low voice, as he was taken aback by what she had said.

Lucie let out a sob and bringing her hand down she said: “I command you to leave this place tonight and to not search me again, until the ritual is done.”  
Jesse realised far too late what she had done, and in a last attempt to resist her command, he reached out with his arm. Before he vanished, the Herondale girl only heard her name coming out from his lips in an anguished plead.

She then turned around, not daring to take a last look at the coffin where his body was resting, fearing she wouldn’t have the strength to leave if she did so, and exited the roofless building.  
As Lucie strode down the foggy London streets at night, she couldn’t help to feel as if with her command to leave her, Jesse had taken her heart alongside with him.  
Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps only her soulless shell was going to bear everything that the ritual to bring the boy she loved back would entail.  
She thought about the Jane Austen quote again _‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’_  
However, this time she found herself at the end, with no hopes for the future. The only thing keeping her going was the fact that she was going to give back to Jesse the life that had been ripped out from his young hands.  
Love was worth suffering for, right?

_Oh, I can't seem to let myself leave you_  
_But I can't breathe anymore_  
_Oh, I can't seem to not need to need you_  
_And I can't breathe anymore_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little story. 
> 
> Please go check out my amazing friend's art of Lucie on her IG page: @/crimsonbluesoul. Her art is great and I'm always taken aback by how talented she is!
> 
> I have a Tumblr and Twitter if you want to come and say hi  
> @/claudiarya


End file.
